The Visiting Girl
by yes-I-am-a-genius
Summary: A young girl's parents have high-risk jobs, but when their jobs take them both out of the country, their daughter is vulenrable to their enemies. It is Mycroft's job to arrage her a safe house. With no other choice, he must place the girl with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. She is an obident companion to the duo, but what might happen if she finds a mystery of her own?
1. The Maxwell Placement

"I should well hope that you shall be content with the accommodations. I deeply regret that I couldn't have gotten you a hotel or a nice family to stay with-" He was cut short.

"It will be fine, Mr. Holmes. She shan't know what she's missing. And, as you say, it will only be for a short while," Roland Maxwell assured Mycroft Holmes. "And I will not ask where the flat is. I trust that you can get ahold of her if need be, yes?"

"Yes, sir," Mycroft replied. "If you are truly sure that this will work out; I have described to you the occupants of the flat." Mycroft wasn't sure whether the placement of Mr. Maxwell's daughter would work out.

"Yes. I have utter faith in you, Mr. Holmes. You have dealt with some other affairs in which I believe you made the correct, rational decisions," Roland stated.

He rose from the chair he had been seated in and made a motion toward the door. "Good wishes, Mr. Holmes. I hope to see you in a few months, unscathed." Mycroft watched as Roland Maxwell exited into out into the world, not knowing for certain if he would see the gentleman again.

Mycroft shook his head and picked up the telephone on his desk.

* * *

"Mr. Holmes?"

Mycroft Holmes looked up from his back seat window to the girl to right. "Yes, Miss Maxwell?"

"How long will my parents be away?" she inquired.

"I'm sorry. I don't know the answer to that," Mycroft replied honestly and went back to staring out the window. A brief silence enveloped the automobile.

"Are they safe?" the girl asked in almost a whisper.

Mycroft looked over at her with sadness glinting in his eyes. He wasn't sure how to answer her. He looked into her aquamarine eyes, and replied, "They are as safe as they can be given the situation."

The girl didn't say anything; she simply nodded. She rest her head against the cool glass of the window and looked out into the streets, her thick brown hair shrouding the emotions on her face. The people outside were bustling about in their rain gear. They were just going about on the dismal spring day, absorbed in their own tasks. She imagined she were one of them, that it was just another normal spring Thursday in London. But for her it wasn't.


	2. 221B Baker Street

John Watson woke up hoping that it was just going to be another, uneventful Thursday. Of course, he knew better than to get his hopes up like that. Living with Sherlock Holmes seldom brought uneventful to the agenda. John walked into the sitting room to find Sherlock in his robe standing in front of the fireplace playing notes of an unidentifiable melody and emotion. One could only guess burdened, but then again, one never can tell about Sherlock Holmes. Surrounding to virtuoso were dozens of pairs of socks strewn about.

"Sherlock-?" John addressed his flat mate with uncertainty. The other man stopped playing and looked at John.

"Morning, John, nice to see you're awake. My playing didn't disrupt you did it?" Sherlock queried.

"No, I..." John started, but his train of thought was distracted by the mess of socks scattered about. "Sher-"

"Pity. I'll try harder next time," Sherlock commented as he drew up his bow and continued with his music.

"Sherlock, what are all these socks doing in the sitting room?" John questioned trying his best to keep calm. Sherlock paused a moment to answer his bewildered friend. "It's an experiment, John."

"An experiment?! With your socks?" John asked a bit hotly, not wanting to believe that this is what his friend had been occupying himself with while he himself was asleep.

"Don't be silly, John; they're your socks," Sherlock answered bluntly. This threw John over the edge.

"SHERLOCK!" John roared at Sherlock, who was oblivious to John's yelling. "WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT KEEPING TO YOUR OWN POSSESSIONS?!"

"John, how was I supposed to ask you if you were asleep?" Sherlock asked sensibly. "What was I supposed to do- wake you?"

"Yes! It has never bothered you to do so before!" John answered, furious. Sherlock set his instrument down on the armchair and walked onto the coffee table. He picked up a laundry basket and began to stuff all the socks into it. He thrust the overflowing basket at John.

"There you are," Sherlock said with a slightly sarcastic grin. "Eh, I might want to wash those before I put them on if I were you." John let out an exasperated sigh.

"Sherlock, I am going to go and get myself dressed. When I come back, I would prefer the flat to be in one piece. Do you think you can manage that for a couple of minutes?" John asked flatly. Sherlock sighed and picked up his violin once more. John was serenaded by one of his favorites as he assessed to his bedroom as a small consolation for the grief Sherlock had already caused John today.

When he returned a few minutes later, Sherlock was staring out the window at the street below. John cleared his throat. Sherlock turned round to look at him. "Sorry about earlier, John."

"No you're not. You're pleased with yourself," John retorted. Sherlock stared at him for a short moment.

"Yes, you're right. I am rather pleased with myself. Wasn't expecting such an outrage from you, John," Sherlock agreed. "We should be getting a visitor soon."


	3. The Visitor Arrives

The rest of the ride had been in silence. The car was coming to a halt in front of Speedy's. The girl looked at Mycroft with curiosity. His response was for his driver to open his door for him and step out onto the sidewalk. The girl opened her own door. The driver lifted two smallish suitcases and a leather messenger bag, and handed them to the girl. Mycroft walked up to the door and rang the bell. He turned to the girl, saying, "Welcome to two hundred twenty-two, B, Baker Street."

An elderly woman answered the door. "Oh, Mycroft, dear! I didn't know Sherlock was expecting you!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.

"He wasn't. May we come in, Mrs. Hudson?" Mycroft asked the woman impatiently. Mrs. Hudson led Mycroft and the girl up the staircase, and knocked on the door. "Sherlock? It's your brother here to see you."

"Enter," was all that came from inside the flat.

* * *

As his brother entered the room, Sherlock turned to John. "I told you we were going to have a visitor." John rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," Mycroft said. "I think I can handle it from here."

The girl had been standing outside the door and Mycroft had to pull her in before he shut the door on Mrs. Hudson. "You can return when the queen's gone, Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock yelled to his landlady. Mycroft drew the girl closer to the gentlemen. "Boys, I'd like you to meet Claire Maxwell, she-"

"Fourteen or fifteen, a Year 10 student. You play the piano and sing. You like to write or draw. You read a lot and by the looks of, it, most likely things beyond your age level. You've recently spent a few months in America. Your mother isn't around much, but your father doesn't try to fill her place very much. This doesn't bother you too much because you're more concerned about your academics. You stayed up late last night watching television," Sherlock deduced about Claire. "Oh, and you don't like the smell of Mycroft's deodorant."

"Sherlock!" Mycroft exclaimed. "Have some decency!"

"Why? I'm not too fond of your deodorant either," Sherlock countered.

John stood up from his chair. "Claire, hello, my name is John Watson. Would you like to take a seat?" Claire nodded and looked at Sherlock in perplexity. She walked over to the chair John had been sitting in and set her suitcases down, not bothering to take off the messenger bag. Meanwhile, the arguing brothers had made their way to the kitchen. "I'll be right back. I just want to make sure those two aren't killing each other," John said following the Holmes brothers.

"Mycroft, who is the child you have brought with you?" Sherlock asked as he started tea. "I called you yesterday about the matter, Sherlock," Mycroft replied. "All you said was that you were going to bring a client with you to the flat. You never mentioned that your 'client' was a teenaged girl!" Sherlock informed his older brother. "You never let me finish, Sherlock," Mycroft started. John walked into the room. "Mycroft, why did you bring a girl bearing suitcases here to our flat?"

Mycroft sat in a chair. "She is going to stay with the two of you for a few months. Her parents are clients of mine and they needed to place Claire in a secure place to protect her from their enemies." "What sort of enemies?" Sherlock asked, intrigued. "Sorry, Sherlock, but I can't tell you. Wouldn't want to risk the girl's life, would you?" Sherlock poured himself and John a cup. He offered his brother one, but Mycroft declined.

"Listen, Sherlock, John; I haven't a lot I can tell you. It was a spur of the moment decision. It will only be for a few months." Mycroft glanced at his watch and stood. "I've got to go. Do try not to scar her, Sherlock. John, please try to protect her from Sherlock." He walked back to the sitting room and addressed Claire. "Goodbye, Miss Maxwell. I shall visit in a couple of weeks." He left the flat, not bothering to shut the door.

Sherlock and John stood in the kitchen doorway looking at the girl sitting in the armchair. "Fourteen, writing more than drawing," Claire said. Sherlock smiled. "So, apparently you're to stay with us for a while. Any idea as to why?" Claire pulled a long cream colored envelope out of her bag and held it out. "Your brother doesn't know I took it." Sherlock waltzed over and took it from her.

_The UN can't even ensure that they can give Claire a place to stay without being discovered. They might have moles among them. Roland and I must go and do our jobs, and it isn't our fault that they have overlapped. Mr. Holmes, you must take care of her. We greatly apologize for the short notice, but we wanted to ensure that no one know of her whereabouts. We have dealt with you on a couple of other occasions on things, and we trust that you can help us. Roland will be by tomorrow to tie up any loose ends. We are to leave the next morning, and won't be there to see you._

_We should be back in a few months; exactly how long, I couldn't guess. Our safety is at risk. Our enemies will be informed that we will have left the country. We just want to keep our daughter safe. We shan't be informed. We are taking every precaution to keep her out of harm's way. If anything goes wrong, someone will be in touch with you. Please, do not mention any of this to her. We have dealt with that, and would like all stories to be kept straight. And, if anything does go wrong, make sure that she knows how much we love her. She's a brilliant child, Mr. Holmes. We'd like to see her have a normal life. Or, at least the most normalcy she can in her life. _

_-Donna Maxwell_

Sherlock handed the letter to John once he had read over it and took the chair opposite Claire. "Claire, what sort of work do your parents do, exactly?" Sherlock was trying his best to be genial with her. "I'm really supposed to know about what my mum does, but she's some sort of intelligence agent in Syria. I'm not exactly sure what my dad does. I do know that he works of the United Nations. He's never said; I don't even think my mum knows for certain." John looked up as he finished the letter. "You never thought to ask?"

"No. I know that even if I did, they couldn't tell me. I saw it on their faces and heard it in the middle of the night when they received work calls," Claire said with a faraway look in her eyes, as though she were recollecting every instance word for word.

"You've had a rough start this morning," John disrupted Claire's thoughts. "I will get you some tea. Have you had breakfast yet?" Both Sherlock and Claire shook their heads 'no'. "Well, then, Sherlock, maybe you could persuade Mrs. Hudson to make us some, eh?" John walked into the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight, Sherlock yelled, "MRS. HUDSON! COME HERE! JOHN WOULD LIKE TO SEE YOU!"

"Sherlock! That's not what I meant, and you know it!" John reprimanded. Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs and into the flat. "John, what do you need? I came quick as I could," Mrs. Hudson said, slightly out of breath. "Thank you, Sherlock," John said gritting his teeth. "Why don't the three of us have a talk in the kitchen? Claire, we won't be more than a couple of minutes."


End file.
